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Meghan Markle and Overcoming the Mental Health Stigma

~ DADragonflies ~ 1 Comment

I am not someone who keeps up with the Kardashians or The Real Housewives or much of anything Hollywood-centric or famous-person-centric. It’s not my thing. So, when the interview Oprah did with Prince Harry and Meghan Markle aired, I had no intention of watching.

However.

I began to see posts about some of the subjects broached during the interview. I saw a lot of opinions expressed about these subjects. My interest was piqued at Meghan’s revelation that she’d had suicidal thoughts. I saw a LOT of comments on this, including “They should have kept that within the family” and “Why are they airing their dirty laundry on Oprah” and “Who cares about her mental health issues?” “How could someone who has so much have it THAT bad?”

I’ve previously written of my own battles with Depression [click here and here for my other pieces]. This is a very personal topic for me. I believe discussions about Depression and other mental illnesses are VITAL, regardless of race, financial status, standing in the community and/or any other factor. We cannot begin to erase the stigma of mental health issues until it becomes acceptable to discuss them the same way we discuss heart issues and diabetes and every other medical ailment.

“This is a very personal topic for me…discussions about Depression and other mental illnesses are VITAL”

Our Brain is an Organ

Our brain is an organ. Deficiencies in our brains are not personal weaknesses that we must overcome with willpower. It is not a simple matter of deciding to not be depressed and then forcing ourselves to follow through. I liken this to heart disease. If someone is having a heart attack, we get them medical help. We do not tell them they need to think positive until the pain goes away. We do not tell them they are weak of character. We do not judge them if they must get medical help or take medication to fight heart disease. WHY do we do this to those who need help for Depression and other mental illnesses? WHY do we shame them? WHY is it acceptable to medically treat our hearts and other organs but not our brains?

So, I watched the interview.

“We cannot begin to erase the stigma of mental health issues until it becomes acceptable to discuss them the same way we discuss heart issues and diabetes and every other medical ailment.”

We MUST Speak Up

It was absolutely relevant and important for Meghan Markle to speak out about her suicidal thoughts. Anyone who speaks out helps to reduce the stigma that exists, but as a member of the Royal Family – and all that goes with that – it was especially important that she came forward. She proves that Depression and suicidal thoughts can happen to anyone. Even a Royal.

As I watched the interview, I noted that she had done what she was supposed to do. She spoke up and told others, and she asked for help. For anyone out there reading this who has ever had suicidal thoughts, I think you will agree that her asking for help was one of the most difficult and courageous things she could have done. Depression typically has a very physical aspect to it: it feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Breathing is difficult. Moving is difficult. And should you somehow make it past those physical barriers, there are mental barriers to overcome. A bubble of shame is often an added restraint to hold you back. Mentally AND physically, getting off that couch is HARD. Asking for help is even harder.

Her speaking up was the exact opposite of weakness. It took SO MUCH strength.

Why don’t others speak up?

First of all, Meghan Markle DID speak up and was denied help. That in and of itself is a huge setback for any of us working to overcome our mental health illnesses. If a member of the Royal Family cannot get help, who can?

Then there are the posts others make about “keeping the door open” and that “they are available to listen.” People say they will be there for you. And I believe their intentions are genuine. But from personal experience, people get tired of hearing about negative thoughts and health problems from others after a very short time, especially if they have [conscious or unconscious] biases regarding mental illness. And quite frankly, the listening most people do is to listen with the intent to respond, quite often with the intention to offer up well-meaning advice. “Think positive.” “You have so much to be thankful for.” ” What do you have to be depressed about?” “Try a little exercise.” These sorts of “advice gems” are what keeps the stigma alive. They are based in the belief that mental illnesses are weakness-based rather than true medical issues.

Finally, someone having suicidal thoughts needs a professional. Even if someone is available 24/7, most of our friends and family are not properly trained to talk through such serious issues like suicide. If in doubt, revisit the “advice gems” in the previous paragraph.

So, the question as to why we don’t reach out to the professionals for help comes back to stigma.

“Think positive.” “You have so much to be thankful for.” “What do you have to be depressed about?” “Try a little exercise.”

~~These sorts of “advice gems” are what keeps the stigma alive. They are based in the belief that mental illnesses are weakness-based rather than true medical issues.~~

Release the Stigma

It’s tough to reach out if you have been given the message that all of this is inside your head and that you are too weak to manage your thoughts to make yourself better. When you truly believe you are broken, the shame that goes along with this disease says you cannot be fixed. When I was in this state, I did not feel comfortable reaching out for help. I thought that I might ridiculed or pitied or even locked up in a mental hospital. I worried about how it might affect my family if others were to find out how crazy I was – and I truly felt crazy. I suffered in silence. There were many times I lay in despair on my closet floor, a towel held to my mouth to muffle my sobs. I felt completely broken, unfixable, and I did not know who to turn to or even what help I needed.

Meghan talked about how she wore her public persona “mask” when she had to go out. I used to wear my own masks. Our masks are something we carry with us, things we cling to in order to fit in. They are how we hide from the stigma and pretend all is okay. Appearance is, after all, everything. These masks are how we function in public, and they are why it surprises so many when they find out how much suffering we’ve been holding in.

Yet, Meghan pushed aside her mask and DID reach out. She DID ask for help…for professional help. But, she did not receive it. Why? (Here it comes again…wait for it…) Because of the stigma attached (see the theme here?). Because the Institution that IS the Royal Family deemed suicidal thoughts to be a weakness, at least for them, and it was something to sweep under the royal rug and ignore. The reason Meghan’s interview with Oprah resonated deeply with so many is not merely because she married into the royal family and all of the curiosity that surrounds that. It is also because she is experiencing things that many ‘ordinary’ folks experience, and her speaking up gives validity to those experiences for the rest of us. Each time someone speaks out about their experience with mental health, it makes it that much easier for the next person to speak out. And once more people feel comfortable speaking out – and do so – awareness will grow, and the stigma can finally begin to fade.

When that happens, once it becomes an everyday, ordinary thing to discuss mental health issues with our doctors, shame-free, we will finally start to ask for the help we need. And that is when we begin to get professional – MEDICAL – help. This is when the real healing begins.

“Each time someone speaks out about their experience with mental health, it makes it that much easier for the next person to speak up. And once more people feel comfortable speaking up, and do so, awareness will grow, and the stigma can finally begin to fade.”

It Gets Easier the More We Share

By Meghan not keeping it in the family – by speaking up – she helps reduce the stigma attached to mental illness. She is showing that this is not something shameful or weak or something to be hidden from the public. She is no less of a person for having these thoughts, and she is certainly not broken. It doesn’t matter that she is a Royal or wealthy or that she looks healthy. What matters is that she spoke up. Our voices are powerful things, and when we use them for good, good things happen.

I have found that it gets easier each time I speak up about my own experiences, whether that be in everyday conversation, commenting on threads online, or posting in my blog. I no longer fear how I will be received. Rather, I hope that some bit of information I offer up may resonate with someone else who is either going through it, or who knows someone going through it. If my speaking up in any way helps reduce the stigma, then bring me a podium. I will not stop until the stigma is gone and we can all speak up without shame and fear of ridicule.

Soul Lessons, or How I Learned to Listen to my Inner Voice [Again]

~ DADragonflies

It’s been an eye-opening week for me. Ear-opening might be more apt.

First of all, my husband and I have been hunkered down in our place in CO to escape not only the heat, but also the virus that is running rampant through TX this summer. I’ll digress a little to say that for anyone not keeping up, TX is one of the worst hot spots in our country. [soapbox alert! Small rant to follow!] This is due in part to the lack of leadership in practical ways such as imposing a mandate to wear masks. I understand and agree that they are uncomfortable, and it can be difficult to breathe while wearing one. HOWEVER, the same holds true for a ventilator, which I imagine is a worse level of discomfort than a mask. So, wear your damned masks! [she steps down from her soap box to continue on with the rest of her story] Ahem…

We needed to pop back to TX to tend to a few things. We sought out truck stops along our route, having heard some gas stations had closed down. It’s a thirteen-hour drive, and we didn’t want to get caught unprepared. After my husband fit in a bike ride, and after I fit in a long walk to keep up my four-month streak of over 10,000 steps/day, we set off on our merry way. My husband loves to play the road game “Beat Google Maps” whereby he tries to come in under Google’s estimated time of arrival. No, it’s not an official game, but it’s one he’s been playing for years. Decades. This will have a role in some of what I’ll eventually be sharing regarding our return drive to CO. Needless to say, our pace was rapid, and he DID beat Google Maps. I think I ground my teeth the entire drive.

It was late when we finally pulled into the garage this past Sunday. We fell into bed, exhausted. Monday morning, I started right in on all that needed to be done. I had errands to run and had arranged in advance to do everything curbside. Our past month and a half’s worth of mail was delivered, teetering on the counter once it was brought inside. I also began gathering and packing up anything we were planning to take back with us to CO. Monday was a whirlwind of activity.

And I had Write Club. During this time, I only missed one day of Write Club, which was due to the return drive to CO. Write Club is an online write-in group I began in late March. It is set up on Facebook with a Zoom link that allows writers to gather virtually and write together. [If interested, check it out here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1897959403670042] I was busy but happy to keep up with my writing. I was also tired and stressed.

At this point, I had an inner voice telling me to “Slow down!”  Or it may have been saying, “Let go…not everything has to be done all at once.”

Did I listen? I absolutely did not.

I Kept. On. Going. I continued the same pattern on Tuesday, running around wildly, all social-distance-like and masked up. Yay for curbside! Wednesday morning: more of the same. All the while this voice kept nudging me to slow down; let go. Worrying that if I DID slow down we’d have to stay longer, I pushed the voice aside. I desperately wanted to get back to CO.

Wednesday afternoon hit me HARD. My book club was meeting that night – in person.  I had told everyone I would Zoom in for the meeting. My allergies were acting up, and since it was to be held outside, I didn’t want to risk a flare up of my asthma. It was cooler than typical for TX this time of year, and I considered going. But I had things to finish before leaving the next morning. I had not yet tackled the mail, now spilling over onto my counter. The inner voice whispered, “Leave it. Go!”

 I once again ignored her.

By midafternoon a deep depression had swept over me. As the hours passed, my depression grew. I had not had a depressive bout like this since January 2019 (less than a month after starting Emgality shots for my migraines, another story to be told at another time). I go to very dark places when I get like this, and this was no exception. I did not want to bring that ugliness to my book group. 

My husband suggested I go for a few minutes “just to say hello to everyone” in person. I thought about it, but decided against it. I found myself in tears at one point, wondering what the hell I was doing with my life. I questioned everything: my friendships, why I was writing my novel, whether or not I deserved all the wonderful things I have in my life. I chastised myself for not being a good friend, for not keeping in touch as well as I *should* (ugh, that word “should”!). What I wanted to do more than anything was to curl up in a fetal position and sleep into oblivion. But I couldn’t do that because that is not the legacy I want to leave to my kids. Yes, that was something I actually thoughts about.

With much encouragement from my husband, I DID end up going to book club “just to say hello.”  For whatever reason, the gods smiled upon me, and my allergies abated for a few hours. I ended up staying to discuss the book. (“Recipe for a Good Wife” by Karma Brown). It was a lively discussion, and I discovered I needed the camaraderie way more than I needed to sort the pile of mail falling over on my counter.  I felt rejuvenated and even a bit triumphant when it was time to return home.  And less depressed.

Upon returning, I saw all that still needed to be done before we left the next morning. I then heard, “Let go. If it doesn’t get done it will be okay.” But, eager to get back to CO and my mountains and hiking trails, I pushed the voice further down, muffling her. Because I knew I did need to get it all finished. Had to.

My night of outdoor fun caught up with me. Or perhaps my inner voice was fed up. My ears began to itch. My throat grew raspy. I tossed and turned all night as a migraine took up residence in my head. I woke Thursday tired and in pain. Yet, I was determined to get through all I “needed” to do and get back to CO. I managed to sort ALL of the mail and get in most of my steps before we left, AND leave the house in order. All by about 10:30AM when we finally left. As we drove, my head would not give up the pain. I ended up taking my first dose of Imitrex since February of 2019 to get rid of the migraine. All this as we sped our way along, once again playing the Google Maps game. I could feel my teeth grinding the faster we went.

It is during this time that I [once again] learned the valuable lesson that inner voices do not do well when suppressed. They tend to make themselves heard eventually. About three hours into the drive I decided to eat some pretzels to get food into my stomach, so I could take my aforementioned meds. Between the pretzels and the grinding of my teeth, my back molar suddenly cracked. In the span of 24 hours I had suffered a bout of depression, a migraine, and now a cracked molar. 

Okay, Universe, you have my attention.

I called around to see if I could find a dentist to see me when we got to CO. Most wouldn’t because they required I quarantine for 14 days since we were coming in from TX. Yes, I did share that we were driving in from TX. These are not times to be withholding information that could impact the lives of others. My tooth, though concerning to me, is not worth risking someone else’s life.

But I was persistent and finally found someone willing to see me on Monday.

Had I listened to my voice when it whispered, I would have slowed down. I might even have stayed in TX a little longer to spread out my tasks over a few extra days instead of cramming it all into three days. Would my tooth have cracked? I don’t know. But it might have done so in TX where I could have called my own dentist and had it looked at immediately.

I am now back in CO, cracked tooth and all. I DO love it here, and despite all the trouble, I am happy to be back. We are new to this area this year, and due to COVID-19 we’ve not been able to cultivate many new friends. However, we have been able to explore the area and spend a lot more time together. For that, I am grateful to C-19. Yet in hindsight, I can see that our eagerness to escape both the heat and the virus might have been premature. The lesson to slow down, to take Life one day at a time – to LET GO – keeps popping up for me.

Ignoring my inner voice is not new. It shows up in many aspects of my life, including my writing. As an example, I have been steadily working on a novel the past couple of years. After an online course this spring, I felt I was on target to finish my rough draft by the end of the summer instead of my original goal of finishing by the end of the year. I have been plugging along, writing at least 5 days a week since class ended. What was originally a possibility: “You might be able to finish this by the end of summer!”  became a must: “You must finish this by the end of summer!” Meanwhile, the inner voice kept saying, “Slow down. Enjoy the process.”

I did NOT listen. Until now.

With all that happened last week, with all the ignored inner whisperings and what transpired as a result, I have decided to take a break from my novel. Yes, I will keep writing, just not on my novel. For now. With this decision I feel a huge sense of release. My characters need a vacation. I need a break. And just as time away can help one relax and even give new perspectives, this time is already stimulating my creativity. I’ll work on a few other projects I’ve had in queue and see where that leads.

For those of you receiving advice from the outside world to do things that don’t mesh with what you sense to be true for yourself, I say, “Follow your heart. Listen to that inner voice.” You may need to meditate or slow down to hear it. We don’t all do things the same way. What works for one doesn’t mean it will work for you. Our inner voices have a lot more insight into how we work than we tend to give them credit.

Time to take my own advice. While I cannot reverse time and be back in TX doing things at a saner pace (nor do I want to be), I CAN slow down. I can take that leisurely walk I’ve been wanting to fit in rather than power-walking up the mountain every time. I can read that book I’ve had sitting by my bedside…take a break from writing my novel. It is not going anywhere. I will slow down and enjoy the process.

Namaste, y’all!

Back to My Roots*

~ DADragonflies

*Note: this was originally published on May 21, 2020 but due to issues with my site it was deleted. I am reposting now that my site has been fixed.

These weeks of staying at home have me getting back to my roots, externally and internally. In the external sense, my hair grows grayer by the day. I have been pleasantly surprised to find that the grayer it gets, the more back to myself I feel. I’ve been considering letting it switch back to its natural color for some time, and this is as good a time as any.  I admit there is a vain side to me that does not welcome the aging that gray hair symbolizes. I find a small part of myself attached to staying young. But with age often comes wisdom, eh? I figure the worst-case scenario is that if I decide I don’t like it, I’ll dye it again.

As far as internal roots are concerned, I am an introvert. For me, staying at home these past weeks has been a welcome reprieve from the hustle and bustle of my pre-COVID days. I’ve spent a lifetime longing for a time like this. No, I’ve been praying for this. Not the pandemic part, just the freedom to stay at home part. The part where no one questions why I’m here and tries to “solve” my socializing “problems” to bring me out of my shell. I’m very happy here in this shell, thank you very much…

It is for exactly this reason that I well understand how difficult this time is for extroverts. Trying to conform to a world in which you feel you do not fit drains your energy. I very much hope that once this time is over there will be a recognition that there are more ways to do things than the ways we have traditionally gone about doing them. You can get to “four” by adding 2 + 2. You can also get there by adding 1 + 3. Two different equations; both arrive at the same answer. Neither is wrong, they are just two of many ways to get to the same goal. I’m hopeful that seeing how well many introverts have thrived during this time will open paths for ways to help them thrive once our new normal is established.

This is not to say this time has been completely easy and anxiety free for me and all other introverts. Many days I do feel a sense of calm, of inner peace. A sense that all will be okay and that all which is unfolding is as is meant to be. Other days it feels as if the world is falling apart. It is ironic to me that our country, the United States of America, is as divided as ever.

Has the divide always been there? Likely, despite many wishing to return to the good ol’ days. I believe memory tends to be selective where history is concerned. Have we always been this far apart? There is this niggling suspicion, a gnawing at my brain that answers, “Yes.” That this divide has been lurking under the surface all along. Recent elections have ripped away its cover, revealing the ugly truth we had hoped to keep hidden. We didn’t want others to see how dysfunctional we are. And that dysfunction has been present for quite some time.

Facebook, once a fun way to reconnect with past friends, current friends, and family, has evolved into yet another place to judge, preach, and sensationalize…with an over-sized dose of spreading misinformation – on all sides – to boot. I cringe at some of the things I’ve seen posted…and at some of the things I’ve posted.  Yes, I’ve found myself as caught up as others, spewing accusations, judgement, and despair. It was not a difficult trap to fall into. I found the need to limit my time on FaceBook and other social media, but once COVID hit I found myself on again. I had this idea that we would all bond over our housebound time. Unite. But it has turned into yet another area that has widened the divide even further.

Coming together, I believe, is not contingent on a majority of us moving to one side or the other. It is irrelevant what we each believe. What needs to happen is acceptance of one another, despite our beliefs.

These beliefs are strong within us. But it’s one thing to post information and allow others to read should they choose to do so, and from there, form their own opinions. It is quite another thing to jam the information down their throats and demand they accept that our way is the one right way. That’s force feeding.

We are attempting to unite in all the wrong ways. Instead of posting our ideals and beliefs and judgments, trying our darnedest to sway other’s opinions and beliefs, we should think about why it is so important that we have others see our side. We need to look at what is behind the force feeding.

Perhaps uniting begins by separating, by working on ourselves. By knowing who we are and what our own boundaries are before attempting to unite the world. My intuition tells me to work on being the best human I can be, regardless of the world around me. Maybe, ultimately, that is our true purpose in life. I remember some of Steven Covey’s teachings about working within our Circle of Influence. The idea is that there are things we can change and influence in our lives (our Inner Circle of Influence), and other things that lie outside of that. No matter how much we worry about those things outside our Circle of Influence, we cannot change them. At least not directly. Those things we can directly change are the ones inside our circle. I choose to work on my inner circle. I believe the more I do so, the wider my circle of influence becomes.

This is not to say I am unaware of what is outside of my circle. In most instances, I am painfully aware. What I am doing is letting go. I’ve let go of trying to control that which is outside my circle, doing my best to release any anxiety and guilt over those things. This eases my mind a teensy, tiny bit.

And as I let go, I am more able to work on those things I can do something about. I will do what I can for my outer circle when the opportunity arises. (For example: voting). Meanwhile, I’ll continue to work on myself. This is how I am brought back to my roots. To peace.

I’ve always believed peace resides within each of us, that we cannot have world peace until we discover peace within. In that sense, peace begins with me. It begins with you.  

Namaste, y’all…